


The Perfect Pair

by TeamGwenee



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Movie Star-AU, modern-au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-01
Updated: 2018-11-01
Packaged: 2019-08-14 07:38:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,220
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16488425
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TeamGwenee/pseuds/TeamGwenee
Summary: How Jaime found his leading lady.





	The Perfect Pair

Jaime’s co-star was beautiful, dainty, famous and _late._

The producer’s may have been delighted to have landed Sansa Stark as his love interest, but if Jaime had not dreamed of playing Ser Artur Dayne since the age of ten, when he first stumbled across the ‘Sword of the Morning’ saga, he would have pulled out. As it was, it was a close call. The casting of the starlet only telling Jaime that his beloved franchise had every chance of being desecrated. An act of sacrilege he had no desire to take part in.

It had taken Tyrion to talk him out of, pleading with him that this was his last chance to rescue his failing career. As filming began, Jaime’s fears were only cemented. Well, actually, one fear was cemented. The rest of the casting was great, the script and direction (although like every other fan he had a bone to pick with it) was promising. There was just one little fly in the ointment.

A red haired, over indulged little celebutante by name of Sansa Stark.

Her acting was wooden, her dedication questionable and her professionalism… well, up until that point the girl’s ‘career’ had comprised of modelling and getting likes on Instagram. Now the poor kid’s agent had landed her a massive acting contract on her twitter following alone, leaving her utterly out of her depth. The best part of rehearsals was spent waiting for her to be coaxed from her dressing room, where she would sit huddled over in a teary mess.

Poor Samwell Tarly, director and fanboy extraordinaire, was beside himself. He too had dreamed of bringing B. A. J. Selmy’s masterpiece to life since childhood, and now his big chance was crumbling before his eyes.

“I never wanted Sansa Stark,” he confided in Jaime over a bacon bap in the canteen, “But the producers insisted. They needed someone popular. I refused to have anyone but you as Arthur but seeing as…”

“Seeing as I am box office poison they need a guaranteed big-name draw.” Jaime nodded. “I understand.”

The situation with Sansa grew steadily worse instead of better, and even the producers were beginning to see the disaster of her casting as money was lost with filming delays. Even the hype over the co-star’s (admittedly very pretty) photoshoots wasn’t enough to keep Sansa’s job. It was almost cruel at this point, and Sansa was half-pleading her agent to pull her form the project.

It was during one his training sessions that Jaime relieved his frustrations.

The best part of filming was rehearsing the fight scenes. Jaime had taken fencing since he was a little boy and he never felt more alive than with foil in his hand. In the training rooms his mind and body made sense in a way it had not done in years. Sweat pouring down his back and every muscle screaming, all his anger and frustration was battled out until he was left with nothing but overwhelming ecstasy.

Brienne Tarth, his training partner, helped a great deal too.

Taking a five-minute break, gasping desperately for air and stretching his muscles, Jaime would relieve himself of his sorrows.

“The studio is thinking of having Sansa replaced with Daenerys Targaryen,” he said with a grimace, “As thought that would help anything. At least with careful coaching Sansa could cry and smile on cue. Dany has been a block of wood on screen for the last five years and has been paid millions to do so. At least Sansa admits she’s crap and will listen to advice. And neither are actually credible as warriors.”

“That’s my job,” Brienne said flatly, “To make them look believable. But I will admit neither are how I pictured Visenya.” Brienne agreed.

“It’s only because they are a pretty face,” Jaime sulked.

Brienne; a graduate from one of Westeros’s leading drama schools, smiled bitterly and fiddled with the cap of her water bottle. “I know something about that,” she mumbled.

That was the worse part. Not that Jaime was stuck with an absolute dud as a screen partner, but that the perfect Visenya was right there on set, one with the ability to move like a dance and who knew the lines so well that the part was written onto her heart.

Sam and Jaime had been dreaming of Arthur since childhood, but Brienne had been living Visenya.

“Run lines with me?” Jaime asked, pressing the unneeded script into her hands.

Those precious moments working with Brienne, whether it be fighting or acting, was the only time Jaime believed in his character, truly believed in him. So much so that after another disastrous rehearsal with Sansa, that sent her running into her trailer for hankies, that Jaime imperiously ordered a runner to drag Brienne to the set.

“What are you doing Lannister?” Sam demanded.

“Trust me,” he ordered, watching with a smile as Brienne came red faced onto set.

“Yes?” she asked expectantly, “Am I needed.”

“Indeed, you are.” Jaime strolled forward, took her by the hand, and lead her towards Samwell. “Tarly,” he said, “Get the producers; get Varys and Doran and Olenna the rest, and come watch Brienne read lines.”

“What?” Brienne squawked.

“Jaime,” Sam said awkwardly, “I don’t think this is a good idea.”

“Look.” Jaime raised his hands in a peaceful gesture, “Just watch Brienne. For a few minutes at least. If you’re not utterly blown away, then I will accept whatever talentless starlet you throw my way and do so with a smile. But first, just watch us.”

They watched. The producers hemmed and hawed and watched again and took a film test of Brienne and had her try several other scenes and questioned whether such a face would be accepted on screen. They discussed camera angles to hide her height and ways of showing off their diversity by having her on screen. All the while Jaime and Sam exchanged looks of relief at having found their Visenya. The only voice of protest that remained was Brienne’s, but whenever the time came for her to perform for the producers the urge to act was too great.

“It’s astounding,” Oberyn mused, “Watching you two together, you could almost believe it was real. That the love is real.”

Brienne, already pink and blotchy, flushed as red as a lobster.

“Well Miss Tarth,” Varys said after hours of conferring, “Will you be willing to discuss a contract?”

Jaime and Sam turned matching puppy dog eyes towards her, Jaime’s face turning white with fear. The perfect Visenya had been found, the producers were on board, the film was this close to being saved. Jaime silently pleaded for Brienne to agree. If she was to say no just as everything was falling into place…it would have been the end.

Brienne looked at Jaime, swallowed her dry throat, and nodded.

And when Jaime swept her into his arms and claimed her mouth with his own, the producers saw just how real it was.

“Well,” Olenna said with pleasure, “And here I was worrying how we were going to sell Sansa’s replacement to the press and how it will effect our publicity.” She smiled as Jaime deepened the kiss, going as far to dip the taller woman. “But for some reason I don’t think we have anything to worry about.”

 


End file.
